A/N: Spoiler alert for Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Avengers: Age of Ultron, Captain America: Civil War, Ant-Man, Iron Man 3, and Spiderman: Homecoming.
As always, many thanks go out to CapriceAnn Hedican-Kocur for the Beta and Winter-Soldier-88 for the brainstorming.
Year From Hell: Season 2, in progress. Please stand by…
Just finished moving to a new apartment. Took a lot out of me to do most of it by myself. Big thanks to my friend Anthony for helping move the big stuff.
Namaste,
Sunny
"I will come back to you, I swear I will;
And you will know me still.
I shall be only a little taller
Than when I went."
― Edna St. Vincent Millay, The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems
Winter Soldier
And You Will Know Me Still
Chapter 62
Avengers Headquarters
Upstate New York
Unwinding the boxing wraps from his hands, Steve kept his head down so he wouldn't accidentally catch sight of Maria ignoring him on her way to who knows where. Coming up on the common area, he heard a sports program playing and guessed correctly that Sam was the lone audience. However, his friend didn't seem to be as invested in the basketball game as he usually was. He watched Sam down the last of his iced tea then shut off the game and go to the window, staring out over the wooded area north of the facility.
"Sorry your team lost again, Sam." When Steve's friends were unhappy, his first instinct was to cheer them up.
His friend glanced over his shoulder and back to the view. "Not upset about that."
"Someone busting your chops? Say the word and I'll take 'em out." Steve punched one fist into the palm of the other.
Sam let a small smile show, but only briefly. "I really thought Lillian and I had something goin'."
Understanding dawned. "She dumped you." Steve gave Sam's shoulder a squeeze. "Welcome to the club. She say why?"
"Got the classic 'it's not you, it's me' speech."
"Even I know that's code for 'I'm not that into you', or 'I was into you, but I'm over it'."
Using a finger to mime pulling his glasses down to look over the top, Sam deadpanned, "Oh, really? 'Cause I never woulda guessed." He rolled the empty glass between his hands. "Thing is, I'm not that upset. I mean I was, at first. Maybe 'cause I'd rather be the breaker, instead of the breakee." A smile, genuine this time, softened the scowl. "We goin' after Spider-Boy again?"
Steve inhaled, shoved his hands in his pockets, and exhaled loudly. "Wouldn't do any good. Nat's on his side, and she wants to make him an Avenger. We took the suit away and she gave it back."
Chuckling, Sam turned from the window and set the glass on a nearby table. "Not a bad idea, the Avenger thing. That way, we can keep an eye on him and his activities, help him find his focus. Plus, Wanda would have someone closer to her own age on the team. Maybe keep her from hanging out with Vision all the time, which is kinda creepy, by the way." He looked around, seeing they were alone. "What d'you think Tony would say if we brought him in?"
"I checked into Peter's academic records. The kid's intelligent, going places. Tony'd probably offer him an internship with SI."
"And there goes our first and only protégé."
Steve slapped him on the shoulder again. "It'll all work out, for Peter and for you, Sam."
Skeptical, Sam gave him a side-eye. "What about you and Hill?"
A frown and a shrug joined forces. "If it's meant to be, it'll happen. If not, I'll move on."
"Dude, she's been avoiding you for weeks. It's time to pin her down and demand a straight answer."
"Won't work," Steve told him. "She'll only dig her heels in more." Sam's phone rang, signaling that it was time for Steve to make himself scarce.
As Steve hit the hallway to his quarters, he heard Sam say, "Hey, Peter. What's up?"
~~O~~
Sam let himself out onto the balcony that overlooked the lap pool. Down below, several agents were taking advantage of the warm weather to go for a swim.
He listened to Peter's lengthy babbled excuse for calling with only half his attention. Finally, the boy wound down. "So, what d'you say?"
"Sorry to break it to you, kid, but I haven't heard anything that required a response from me."
Peter inhaled to calm himself and spoke slower this time. "Aunt May wants you to come to dinner next week. Wednesday night at seven."
Taken aback, Sam said nothing at first. Then, "Me specifically, or me as in me and Steve?"
"You. She doesn't know about Steve, um, Captain America. And, uh, she still thinks you're just a friend. Wants to meet you." Sam heard a door closed, cutting off background noises. "Told her you were probably working, but she insisted."
"What did you tell her I do?"
Peter's desk chair creaked when he sat down. "Security. She just doesn't know it's for the world and not, you know, a big company like Stark Industries."
"Good idea," Sam mused, leaned against the railing with his ankles crossed. He was intrigued at the thought of getting to know Peter's aunt. "I'll be there, unless there's an alien invasion or murderbots attack."
"Good! Great!" The relief in Peter's voice amused him. In the background, Sam heard knocking, followed by the boy urgently whispering, "Gotta go. See you next week."
The Parker Apartment
Queens, New York
May stood in the hall outside Peter's room, shocked at seeing him wearing a Spider-Man costume and the female voice she'd heard just before opening the door, thinking he had a girl in there. "What the ****?"
"Uh…" He looked at her, the mask in hand, and back to her.
"What the hell are you wearing?"
He had that look. Eyes wide, a touch of fear at being caught doing something he shouldn't, with a soupçon of the intent to lie. In a flash, May compared Peter's more muscular physique to how he looked at his last school physical, astonished at the change she hadn't even noticed until now. He'd never mentioned working out. When did he have time for the gym anyway, what with his AP classes and the time he and Ned spent at the library?
"You see it's a…"
Peter didn't get a chance to give voice to whatever lie he'd been about to pass off as the truth because he was interrupted by the same female voice from before.
"Tell her, Peter."
He turned away, keeping his voice low, holding the mask to the side of his head. "I can't, Karen! She'll freak out."
Now that the door was open, the voice was clearer, shocking her all over again that it was coming from the mask. If it was a merely a costume, someone had gone to great lengths to install upgrades. "Peter, talk to me. Who's Karen? What's going on, and why would I freak out?"
"She's your mother in all the ways that count. She loves you and deserves to know the truth."
Peter's shoulders sagged in a sign of resignation. "You're right. But let me tell it, okay?"
"Of course, Peter. I'll be here, if you need me."
"Thanks." Facing her again, his back and shoulders straightened, emphasizing the muscle definition that absolutely wasn't there before, along with a new air of confidence. "The truth is… I'm, uh, S-Spider-Man."
May couldn't help it. She laughed in disbelief. "You're Spider-Man?" Crossing her arms, she shifted all weight onto one foot. "Prove it."
"Just don't freak out."
The mask landed on the foot of the bed, and without a word, Peter jumped up, turning in midair to hang from the ceiling by his feet and hands. May came into the room, passing her hands through the air. "It's a trick. Don't know how you're doing it, but it has to be a trick, 'cause if it's not a trick…"
"It's not a trick, May." Peter dropped to the floor, and extended his right arm, hand bent back. Thwap! A strand of something that looked like webbing hit his backpack. He tugged, and it flew into his hands. "You've seen the videos?" May nodded. "It's me. All of it. Every one of them." To add weight to his confession, he tossed the backpack in the air and shot a web, sticking it to the ceiling. Then, he lifted the bed with one hand and set it down again.
"That's… That's not possible. You're a high school student. Not even sixteen." Then, like a bolt of lightning, the answer came to her. "Oh, my God. The nights you've been sneaking out."
He looked at the floor, arms around the backpack. "I-I wasn't meeting a girl or painting graffiti or taking drugs." Peter brought his eyes up to meet hers. "I was chasing criminals, stopping bank robberies, jewelry store robberies, purse snatchings, carjackings, saving a cargo ship full of people, putting a terrorist in prison, making sure an old lady made it to her train on time." With each event, May shook a little more. Her eyes going very wide in shock at the proud lopsided smile that reminded her of his dad. "Saved the life of an Avenger too."
Her knees suddenly weak, May let herself down on the side of his bed. "Oh, ****."
The Bennett Home
Joliet, Illinois
Feeling like a deer in headlights, Christine searched for a plausible response, coming up with, "I… don't know what you're talking about." Lame, yes, but it was all she had.
Dylan held out a tablet. The spaceship stickers on the back identified it as Sawyer's. "This photo is a publicity shot of the two of you with the rest of the cast. You're standing as you were when I came in. However, I knew during the opening of the first episode." He looked at Oliver. "The name Ollie Bennett is listed as recurring, yet you were included in the title sequence." His eyes flicked back to Christine. "You are listed as Tina Vega. A stage name, I assume."
Oliver handed the tablet back. "What did you say to the kids?"
"Nothing, as yet." The element of humor faded away. "Kaitlyn and Emma do not fully trust my presence in your home, and so, do not speak to me as if we were friends, as the boys do."
Annoyed, Christine shook her head. "That's unacceptable behavior. I'll speak to them."
"Please don't. Their doubts are unfounded, but understandable, given the circumstances of my arrival. They know nothing of my past, and I am unable to appease their curiosity. All of us would feel the same in a similar situation." Dylan tucked the tablet into the crook of one arm. "If it is your wish that they not be told, I will keep the secret. However, should they find out on their own, would they not be upset that you have kept such an important aspect of your life from them?"
While Christine and Oliver thought over his comments, Dylan left. Once they were alone again, Oliver looked at her, and she looked back with the same sheepish expressions.
Taking her hand, they returned to the kitchen. "He's right, you know."
"Yeah. Using a stage name was Mom's idea. Didn't want her teenage daughter to be stalked night and day by news hounds and obsessed fans, and it worked. They still haven't found me, or the world would know where I live and we'd never get any peace."
He went back to cooking lunch for their hungry horde and she helped. "Same here. Growing up, everyone called me Ollie. The day I returned to civilian life, I started going by Oliver. My brothers just never got the memo. Cut my hair, got contacts, let my beard grow out for a while."
"Same here. Dyed my hair back to its natural color, had the perm taken out and cut it short, and went back to my real name. It also helped that in real life I didn't dress the same," Christine told him as she gathered the dishes to set the table. When that was done, she took down glasses and got out milk for the kids. Lost in thought, she chuckled.
"What's so funny?" Oliver asked as he ladled soup into bowls.
"Remember the episode where we went undercover at a lip-sync contest?"
He took the baking dish holding the grilled cheese sandwiches from the oven where they were being kept warm and shut it off. "I was in that one. What about it?"
"Jenna twisted her ankle the night before filming the dance sequence. The director had me take her place." Christine rolled her eyes at the memory. "She'd been looking forward to showing off her dance moves hoping to get a part in a movie musical being filmed during the hiatus. It was just her bad luck they'd already cast the role." She set the bowls on a tray and Oliver carried it to the dining room while she brought the sandwiches then went back for the milk.
"I remember. She was on crutches for a week and not happy. It's one of my favorites. Why?"
She chuckled again. "Emma and Kaitlyn caught me doing the routine one night last week. Our daughter looked at me as if I was dancing naked and muttering incantations to the devil."
"Ah. Kaitlyn probably remembered it from when she was little and watched the reruns."
A throat clearing stopped their conversation. They turned toward the hallway where all five kids were standing there listening with various expressions of annoyance and curiosity, except for Dylan.
Emma glanced at the others and stepped forward. "I'm the one who figured it out, Dr. Bennett." She caught Kaitlyn's eye. "I have an eidetic memory."
Standing at the back of the group, Dylan tilted his head as if to say, "I told you so" at the same time their daughter pushed past her friend, glaring, with hands on her hips.
"You mean it's true? All of it?"
"Uh…" Christine looked at Oliver for guidance. He nodded in agreement. "Everyone get to the table before lunch gets cold. We'll talk while we eat."
All made a mad dash for the dining room, Sawyer pushing Eli's wheelchair and Kaitlyn helping, leaving Dylan behind. He didn't say a word. Just turned and followed.
Christine crossed her arms, covering her eyes with a hand. She peeked between the fingers to see Oliver doing the same. They smiled, he held out his hand, and she took it.
They joined the kids in the dining room, taking their seats at one end of the table, four pairs of eyes watching them with breathless expectations as the food was served. The fifth pair of eyes glanced from one face to the other, stopping on Christine's. He raised one eyebrow and she nearly burst out laughing.
"So, does anyone need anything before we get started?" Oliver asked, no doubt hoping to stall a little longer.
No one said a word. The only sounds were the clink of spoons against bowls, the wind outside, and Eli's oxygen machine.
Christine looked at her husband. "Want me to get the ball rolling?"
Oliver made an after you gesture. "You were a main cast member. I was only recurring."
"Fair enough." She picked up a triangle of grilled cheese, dipped it in the tomato soup, and bit it off, using the action to get her thoughts in order. "Haven't talked about the show for, gosh, almost twenty years." Taking the napkin from beside her plate, she wiped her mouth and laid the cloth in her lap. "The summer I turned thirteen, we lived close to the Disney Studios in Burbank. In Southern California, 'close' is a ninety-minute drive minimum." The kids laughed at her annoyed tone. "My friends and I heard the studio was holding open auditions for several new series they were planning, and convinced our parents to take us." Smiling at the memory, she sighed. "I was the only one of five who got a second and third audition. Then, two weeks later, the casting director called to say I'd gotten a part on The Freeze Frame Mysteries.
"Mom got found an agent and a lawyer who went over every word of the contract, especially the clause regarding what we could and couldn't say in interviews."
"Like what, Mom?" Sawyer asked as he reached for his glass.
Resisting an eye roll, Christine ticked off the high points. "All interviews had to be approved by the studio, we couldn't divulge spoilers, the cast couldn't show their scripts to anyone but their parents, agents, and lawyers. The usual stuff. We also couldn't bad-mouth our castmates to the public or we'd be fired immediately." She waved her spoon in the air. "If we said anything to the media that could be detrimental and deleterious to another cast member's career, they could sue the person who made the comments as well as the studio." Taking Oliver's hand, she smiled at him with affection. "That's where your dad and I met."
Abandoned Warehouse
Unknown Location
Bent over the device he was building, Zemo heard the far off sounds of Rumlow and his people training for their upcoming takedown of the Avengers. At least that's what Zemo wanted them to think. The mercenaries were a means to an end. In the end, they would not share in the culmination of his newest life purpose. That he would do alone. The most difficult part would be convincing these men and women to sacrifice themselves rather than allow law enforcement to arrest them, after which they'd either spend the rest of their lives in prison, or be executed for their crimes.
An internal smirk stayed hidden at the memories of the past where he'd done just that to numerous enemies of the state. An external frown appeared because it also brought out the faces of his father, wife, and son as he'd last seen them, dead in the rubble of their home, the gray dust of concrete coating their skin, mixing with the blood, making them look less than human. Zemo put it all out of his mind, intent on finishing the device that would be the next step toward ending the Avengers. At a time of his choosing, the light will go out on Earth's Mightiest "heroes", both literally and figuratively, and his would be the hand on the breaker switch.
Giurgiu, Romania
What little money remained after crossing into Romania was nearly gone, having been spent on nonessentials like food and a place to sleep. Bucky didn't need a fancy apartment. A boarding house would be perfect, except they were all full, and hostels required advance payment from transients.
In the town square, several artists had set up to sketch tourists for forty-three Romanian leu, the equivalent of ten U.S. dollars. Before the war, he and Steve had taken drawing classes together. Steve had excelled, while he barely made it through to the last class. Bucky smiled to himself, recalling the night they were doing life-model sketches. The night went well until the model took off her robe. Blushing furiously, Steve had packed up his pads, pens, and pencils, and ran for the door. It had taken a lot of fast talking to convince his best friend to finish out the course he'd paid for in advance.
"Nope," he told himself from his seat on the edge of the fountain. Several of the artists had been without a customer for over an hour. "Not enough tourists to go around as it is. I need something that won't draw attention." He still remembered his days as a longshoreman with the Port of New York prior to being drafted. "That'll work."
Bucky finished his breakfast of frigănele, sweet eggy bread with blueberry jam, drank down the last of the tea, tossed the wrapper and cup in the trash, and headed toward the docks on the banks of the Danube. He made a beeline for the berth that looked the busiest and searched out the one who seemed to be in charge. Expecting a man, he was pleasantly surprised to see that the foreman was an attractive woman.
Pasting on what he hoped was an agreeable smile, in halting Romanian, Bucky said, "Scuzati-ma. Eu caut de munca. Angajați?"
The woman looked him over in a manner easily recognized as interest and not just in his ability to perform on the job. In English, she said, "You're American."
Taken aback, his response came out sharper than he wanted. "That a problem?"
"Not to me or my employers, who happen to be my parents." She extended her hand. "Antonia."
Bucky knew he couldn't give his real name, settling for a variation of James. "Jacob Popescu."
Antonia smiled flirtatiously, proving his first impression that she found him attractive. "The work is tedious and dangerous. Start tonight, midnight to morning."
Resisting a snort, he shoved both hands in his pockets. "Not afraid of hard work. I can start now, if you want."
"New hire paperwork is still required, though we pay cash at the end of each week." She gave him a side eye. Her pen scratched over the pad in her hand. "We offer an hourly salary plus hazard pay, depending on the cargo, and bonuses for completing the work early."
Shrugging, Bucky dared to feel a sense of relief at the opportunity. "More than fair." He gestured at the workers busily unloading the cargo ship. "I should come back at midnight?"
Her demeanor changed from flirting to business-like, darting her eyes over his shoulder to indicate her superior was nearby. "So, Jacob Popescu, you obviously don't have work permits. But yes, do come back at midnight and I will have all the necessary documents. I have connections." Antonia powered up her phone and took his photo. "Report to the night foreman, my brother Andrei." Again, she extended her hand and he took it. This time, her grip was softer and she held on just a little too long. "Welcome to Vasilescu Shipping and Transport. I look forward to working with you, Jacob."
Because he found her attractive too, he smiled, showing the smallest amount of interest. "And I with you, Antonia. Buna ziua and mulţumesc."
As he walked away, Bucky felt bad for letting Antonia believe he would be amenable to giving into the attraction he felt for her. He loved Natasha and wouldn't betray her trust. That little voice inside his head reminded him that they were no longer together. He'd run away to protect her, severing the intimate relationship they had. Neither one of them was obligated to the other. Still, in the back of his mind, he knew she'd know he'd been with another woman just by looking at him, but would he know if she'd been with someone else? Not that it mattered. He was curious.
Bucky counted his cash as he walked in the direction of the hostel just off the square. If he was cautious when buying food and went to the library instead of renting computer time, he'd have just enough to get him through till his first payday.
Passing through the market on the way to the hostel, Bucky stopped at a bakery to buy a loaf of bread. The older man caught him staring longingly at the chocolate marble loaf cake and added a slice to the bag free of charge. He gave the man a grateful smile. "Mulţumesc."
As he reached the door, the older man called out, "If we're going to be friends, I should know your name, son."
Bucky opened his mouth and closed it again. He'd nearly given Bucky as his name. He cleared his throat. "Jacob, sir."
His new friend waved away the honorific. "Laszlo, please. Only my children, the politie, and the bishop call me sir." He came around the counter. "You're a stranger in town. If you need anything, just ask."
Touched that a stranger had taken to him so quickly, Bucky nodded. "I will."
A woman's voice called out from the back, "Laszlo! Come give me a hand with the covrigi. Mrs. Petran will be coming in an hour to pick up her order soon."
Laszlo patted him on the shoulder and rushed into the back.
The Bennett Home
Joliet, Illinois
"I'd gone to the same open auditions," Oliver put in when his wife paused for breath, "but had read for an entirely different show. The 'Freeze-Frame' showrunners liked my looks, I suppose, and said they had the perfect part for me. The rest is history."
"It was Nana's idea for me to use the stage name Tina Vega," Christine continued. "Because Jenna Hamilton was the star, it was decided, at her insistence, that I would dye my hair brown, have a perm to make it curly, and wear brown contacts to match the character's backstory of having a Caucasian father and Hispanic mother. Nana was okay with the changes because she didn't want reporters following her pre-teen daughter all day and night. I also had to lie about my age because my character was eleven, not thirteen. It helped that I wore braces for a couple years."
From the corner of his eye, Oliver saw Emma nudge Kaitlyn. Their daughter laid down her spoon and picked up another grilled cheese. "What about your catch-phrase? Where'd that come from?"
Christine chuckled and shook her head. "Unscripted. Jo Hughes was the science geek, and in one episode, she created a sort of smoke bomb to flush out the perp. The special effects guy put a little too much flash powder in it and started a small fire. John Farris, he played Jenna's brother on the show, turned to me and said, 'You're dangerous!' and I said, 'But fun!' The director liked it so much, we kept using it."
Eli shifted in his seat. "Why was the show cancelled?"
"Jenna graduated high school the year before, and turned twenty-one during the last hiatus. Her agent thought it was time for her to move into more adult roles." She lifted one side of her mouth derisively. "Didn't exactly work out for her."
Oliver smirked, letting Christine see it. "Tell them what happened a couple months before the finale."
The kids, including Emma, but not Dylan, were all talking at once wanting to know everything. Christine waved them silent, took a deep breath, and let it out. "You're going to freak out. After season four, the braces came off, and Nana convinced the showrunners to stop having my chest bound to make me look younger. I started getting lots of fan mail, especially from boys, which Jenna didn't like at all, and said so at every opportunity.
"When we got the notice that the next season would be our last, most of us were relieved rather than sad. A few made the transition over to adult roles without too much difficulty. Most dropped out of the business to further their education. I was offered my own series, a half-hour sitcom with another channel, but turned it down." From the looks on their faces, everyone but Dylan thought Christine was out of her mind to give up fame and notoriety. "I couldn't see acting as a life-long career. Besides, I was tired of being Tina Vega. I missed being Christine Meadows, teenager, high school graduate, big sister to David and Michelle, dog mom. I wanted to be a doctor and a researcher."
Into the pause her comments left, Oliver said, "Same here. I'd gotten interested in computers, even helped out with editing and special visual effects. My grades were good enough to get me a partial scholarship to one of the better colleges." He took Christine's hand. "We'd become friends, and kept in touch for the next couple of years. Then during one summer break, we both went home to SoCal, and by the time the next semester started, we'd decided to get married after we got our degrees."
The kids were silent, absorbing all they'd been told. To break it, Christine winked at him where the they couldn't see. "And after all these years, I'm still dangerous, but fun."
The Parker Apartment
Queens, New York
Still in a bit of a daze, May let Peter take her out to the living room and sit her on the sofa. He went to the kitchen, took out a bottle of her favorite wine, poured a glass, and carried it out to her. She accepted, drinking while staring at him, her eyes locked on the drone attached to his chest, a reminder that he still wore the suit.
In the bedroom, he laid out pajamas, picked up the mask, and was about to put it back in the bag when he heard a voice that wasn't Karen's. Puzzled, he pulled the mask on. "Hello?"
"How's the suit workin' out for you?"
Now that the voice was clearer, he knew who it was. "Yes, thanks, uh, Ms. Widow, ma'am. It's, um, it's great."
Her throaty laugh made him feel like the inexperienced schoolboy he was. "Natasha, please."
"Um, okay, N-Natasha."
There was a short pause. "Is something wrong, Peter? You sound like you're in shock. Am I that intimidating?"
"I-It's not that. Well, yeah, it sorta is 'cause you're the Black Widow, an Avenger, and I'm just, a-a kid from Queens, and…"
"And?"
Peter debated telling this next part, but dammit, she was an Avenger. She'd find out sooner or later. "I'm in big trouble. I think. Maybe. Or-or not. It's your call." He hoped she'd prompt him for more, to ease his conscience, but no such luck. "Aunt May knows I'm Spider-Man."
TBC
Soupçon = A small amount of something
Covrigi = Romanian baked goods similar to pretzels
From Google Translate:
Scuzati-ma. Eu caut de munca. Angajați? = Excuse me. I'm looking for work. Are you hiring?
Buna ziua = Good day
Mulţumesc = Thank you